


Thankful

by Scheherezade06



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Captain Cobra - Freeform, Captain Swan - Freeform, Fluff, Holidays, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2025912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scheherezade06/pseuds/Scheherezade06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an AU version of season 2, Henry asks Emma to invite Hook to Thanksgiving lunch with them and Emma's parents. Supremely awkward fluff with just a touch of angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thankful

"Where's Captain Hook going for Thanksgiving?" Henry suddenly asked during breakfast on the day before the holiday.

Emma blinked at the boy, processing the question.

Mary-Margaret looked just as surprised as her daughter.

"He can go to—" David began gruffly, but he caught himself when he noticed Mary Margaret's slight frown.

"Granny's," he finished weakly.

"I thought Granny's was gonna be closed?" Henry said.

"Closed for lunch," Mary Margaret said, "but a lot of us are getting together there in the evening."

"You mean while I'm with my mom?" Henry asked. "Other mom."

"Yes," Mary Margaret said. "While you have dinner with Regina, a bunch of us from the Enchanted Forest are going to have a little reunion."

"So, Hook could go to that?" Henry said hopefully.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Emma said.

"Why not?" Henry asked.

"Well, Gold's going to be there," Mary Margaret said, "and he and Hook don't exactly get along."

"Oh, right," Henry said, deflated.

"Hook's not from here," Emma said. "He probably doesn't even know about the holiday. So, really he isn't missing anything."

"But it's Thanksgiving!" Henry protested.

"Yes, but—" Mary Margaret began. Henry cut her off.

"He should come here," he declared.

"What?" Mary-Margaret gasped.

"No way," David said.

Emma just blinked at her son again for a moment.

"Why would you say that?" Emma finally managed to ask.

"Well, if he doesn't have someplace else to go, then we should invite him here," Henry said as if it were only natural. "It isn't right for him to be alone on Thanksgiving, and it'll just be us here for lunch, so nobody will want to kill each other."

David opened his mouth, but closed it after he got another glare from his wife.

"Kid…" Emma started.

"Please, mom?" Henry said, turning on the puppy eyes.

Emma tried to resist the urge to give her son what he wanted. She really did. But she knew what it was like to be alone on Thanksgiving.

"Okay, kid," Emma said finally. "I'll go talk to the pirate."

Henry's smile lit up the room.

.

Later that day, Emma found herself standing on the pier, frowning at the pirate's ship. She didn't really know what the protocol was for this kind of thing. There wasn't exactly a doorbell.

"Ahoy?" she said lamely, looking around to see if anyone else could hear her. "Hook, are you in there?"

She got no reply.

She considered just leaving, but she didn't want to disappoint the kid. She needed to at least make an effort.

She boarded the ship reluctantly, looking around with a slight frown. She couldn't believe she was actually on the Jolly Roger. Captain Hook's ship. It was ridiculous.

She had to admit, though, that she enjoyed the sway of it beneath her feet.

"Hook?" she called again, a little louder this time.

One of the doors opened, and a mussy-haired head popped out. Blue eyes looked around almost nervously as he scowled. When his gaze fell on her, however, his expression changed to one of complete surprise before his features relaxed into a familiar smirk. He stepped on to the deck.

"Emma," he said cheekily, "to what do I owe the honor of your company? Come to tie me up, yet again?"

Emma rolled her eyes.

"What do you know about Thanksgiving?" she asked, ignoring his snark.

"The holiday everyone in town has been excitedly discussing for the past week?" he said, eyebrows rising in surprise. "Not much, I'm afraid… I gather it's some kind of feast?"

"Yeah, there's a meal," she said hesitantly.

"Is liquor involved?" he asked hopefully.

"Um, sometimes? It depends on the family," she said.

"Ah, it is a celebration of family?" he ventured, seeming honestly curious.

"Not exactly," she explained. "It's more about things you're thankful for, and for most people, that includes their family."

"I should hope that those who have it would be thankful," he muttered, and she wasn't sure if he meant for her to hear. The words resonated with her. Unbidden memories came forward for her: Thanksgivings in the orphanage, in group homes, in jail. She frowned, shaking her head to clear it.

"Anyway," she said, "um, we weren't sure if you had plans or not, so, uh, we thought we might invite you to lunch."

"We?" Killian said, his face openly curious and just a sliver hopeful.

"Well, Henry, mostly," she said, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"You are inviting me to have a meal with you and your son?" he asked, searching her eyes. He looked… touched.

"And my p—uh, Mary Margaret and David," she said.

That seemed to shock him.

"Snow White and Prince Charming?" he said with a cocked eyebrow.

"You don't have to come," she said quickly. "I just thought, if you didn't have plans, that—"

"I would be honored," he said in a rush, interrupting her.

"Oh, okay," she said, still feeling awkward.

"At what time should I arrive?" he asked.

"Oh, um, twelve-thirty," she said. "I can give you directions to the loft."

"Where you and your mother reside?"

"Yeah."

"I know where it is."

"How do you know that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"This village isn't very large, love. I've walked the streets enough times to see where most people come from and go to."

"Oh, right," she said, her truthiness detector giving her an inner thumbs-up. "Um, then, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Aye," he said, "it would seem so."

He was smiling at her, but she didn't know what else to say.

"All right, then," she said, fidgeting.

"Until then," he said, inclining his head and taking a step back.

"Right," she said, looking around.

"Is there something else I can do for you, Swan?" he asked after an awkward moment.

"No, no, that's all," she said quickly, turning to leave the ship.

If he said anything else, she didn't hear it.

.

On Thanksgiving Day, Emma had almost forgotten that she'd invited the pirate when she heard the knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" Henry called, dashing to be the first one there, even though no one else had moved.

The boy threw the door open with a huge grin plastered across his face, revealing the black-clad pirate in all his swashbuckling glory.

"Captain Hook!" Henry declared triumphantly, grinning like a maniac.

"May I come in?" the pirate replied, amusement painting his face.

"Yeah! Happy Thanksgiving," the boy said jovially.

"And to you, lad," Killian said warmly, his eyes lifting to look over Henry's head and take in the apartment. He stepped into the loft lightly as Henry fell back and ushered him inside.

"Welcome to my mom and grandma's apartment," Henry said. "I'm really glad you decided to come!"

"Thank you for inviting me," the pirate said warmly, smiling at the boy.

"What's that?" Henry asked, finally noticing the parcel in the pirate's hand.

"It's a gift," Killian said. "Is it not custom in this realm for a guest to bring a gift?"

"It is," Mary Margaret said, stepping forward to accept the magnum of wine. "And it is very thoughtful of you."

"As was your invitation, your majesty," Killian said with a bow of his head.

"Call me Mary Margaret," she said, looking a little embarrassed. "And this is my husband, David."

"He can call me 'your majesty,'" David muttered.

"David!" Mary Margaret admonished, giving her husband a look. She turned back to Killian and gave him a small smile. "And that's Henry of course…"

"Henry," Killian said, inclining his head again.

"And you already know my mom," Henry said, looking over his shoulder at Emma, who was in the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.

"Hook," Emma said with a tight little smile.

"Emma," Killian said with a nod and a grin.

"Oh," Mary Margaret said suddenly, he eyes wide as she looked up from the label of the bottle in her hands. "This is…"

She looked at Killian in shock, and then turned to look at David, holding up the magnum.

"This is really old," she said with a touch of awe. "David, it's from that vineyard in the Enchanted Forest where—"

"It's nothing, really," Killian said, looking pleased. "It's just been gathering dust on my ship. I much prefer rum."

He said the last part to Henry with a wink.

The boy was grinning from ear to ear.

You'd think he'd never seen a storybook character in the flesh before.

"Well, thank you," Mary Margaret said to Killian.

She hesitated for a moment and then wrapped her free arm around him in a quick, awkward hug. Emma had to smirk at the surprised face Killian made over her mother's shoulder.

When Mary Margaret let go of Killian, he gave her another closed-mouth smile, his cheeks a little pink.

"Emma, get the wine glasses," Mary Margaret said happily. "We don't have a decanter, and this will need to breathe. I'd rather pour it into glasses than the lemonade pitcher…"

She set the bottle down and turned back to Killian.

"May I take your coat?" she asked.

Killian shrugged out of the garment with a smooth, well-practiced motion, drawing the sleeve over his hook without catching the fabric.

"That's a lovely vest," Mary Margaret murmured as she took his coat.

Killian looked down at the red garment, looking away quickly.

"Thank you," he said, not meeting her eyes.

While Mary Margaret hung up his coat, Henry grabbed Killian's hand and pulled him into the living room area of the loft. Killian looked down at the boy in surprise.

"Come watch football with me and gramps," he said, tugging Killian toward the sofa where David was sitting. The prince-turned-deputy looked less than thrilled at this turn of events.

"Football?" Killian said.

"It's a sport," David explained reluctantly.

"Played by grown men? In—what are they wearing?" Killian asked, aghast.

"Yeah, the uniforms are a little strange if you aren't from around here," David said.

Henry and David explained the rules of the game while Emma and Mary Margaret finished cooking and set the table. Emma looked at the three guys frequently, and was surprised at how comfortable they looked together—even Hook and David—bonding over sports.

And then they started talking about cheerleaders.

"I think it's time to turn that off and eat!" Mary Margaret announced, cutting off the conversation between the menfolk.

David grinned at her sheepishly, grabbing the remote and hitting the power button.

Henry hopped up and ran to the table. He stopped, looking at the place settings.

"Mom, can Captain Hook sit by me?" he asked, wide-eyed.

Emma opened her mouth, but Killian spoke before her.

"You needn't call me 'captain,' lad."

Henry turned to look up at Killian.

"Should I call you James?" he asked.

"James?" Killian and David said at the same time, looking equally confused and surprised.

"James Hook," Henry said as if everyone should know that.

"That isn't my name, lad," Killian said warily.

"It isn't?" Henry said, surprised. "But that's what the book says!"

The boy dashed over to where he kept his backpack and pulled out a dog-eared copy of Peter Pan. He brought it over to the adults, holding it up and then flipping through it to find the right page.

"The book is called Peter Pan?" Killian said with poorly restrained distress.

"Of course," David said with a smug grin. "You're the villain, Hook."

"Pan is the hero?" Killian sputtered.

Henry had abandoned his page-hunting to stare at Killian.

"Peter Pan isn't a hero?" Henry asked, eyes wide.

"He bloody well is not," Killian declared, clearly irritated.

Henry looked fascinated.

"Come on, boys," Mary Margaret said in her best teacher voice. "It's time to eat."

"We'll talk, later," Henry whispered conspiratorially to Killian before heading to the table.

David was eyeing the pirate appraisingly.

"Oh!" Henry said as if he'd just remembered something important. He turned back around to Killian.

"What is it, then?" Henry said.

"What is what, lad?' Killian asked, confused.

"Your name, of course," Henry said, looking up at the pirate expectantly.

"Killian Jones," he said, still painfully aware of David's eyes on him.

Henry looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I like that better than 'James Hook,'" he said.

"As do I, lad," Killian said with an amused smirk.

"Can I call you Killian?" Henry asked, his face hopeful.

"Aye, lad," Killian said, his face softening. "That would be… aye."

"Okay, Killian. Come sit by me!"

"Go wash your hands, first!" Mary Margaret admonished the boy.

The boy grinned sheepishly and ran off to the bathroom.

"Well, he's certain taking a liking to you," Emma said, moving to stand next to Killian.

"Most people do," Killian said, smirking at the blonde.

"Really? That hasn't been my experience." She teased, unconsciously leaning in.

David cleared his throat, making Emma jump.

"You sit over here, Jones," David said, indicating a place on the long side of the oval table, next to the only place setting with a glass of milk instead of a half-filled wine goblet.

Killian went to stand behind the chair David had indicated.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret said. "Will you put the pies in?"

Emma nodded and went back into the kitchen.

David took his place at the head of the table, near the platter containing the large roast bird. Mary Margaret went to the seat at the foot of the table, opposite her husband, and sat down. That put Emma on the other side of the table, across from Killian and Henry.

The boy came back then, still grinning like an imp, clearly happy to see Killian standing next to Henry's seat. Henry took his seat, but Killian remained standing, his hand resting lightly on the back of his chair.

"Have a seat," Emma said as she came to the table, raising an eyebrow at the pirate.

"After you," he said with a brief, closed-mouth smile.

David looked surprised, but nodded to himself. Mary Margaret smiled at Killian's chivalry.

Emma sat down, folding her napkin in her lap.

Killian and David both sat down once Emma was settled.

"Should we say grace?" Henry asked as David reached for the carving knife. "Or what we're thankful for, or something?"

"What a lovely idea," Mary Margaret said, smiling at her grandson. "Let's each say something we're thankful for before we eat."

Henry reached along the table's edge for Mary Margaret's hand. She gave it freely. Killian was surprised when the boy also took his hand again. Henry looked around the table expectantly. Mary Margaret obligingly reached for Emma's hand. Emma took it, not quite reluctantly.

Emma and Killian both looked at David. David took Emma's hand easily, giving it a little squeeze and giving her a sweet smile. Then he turned to Killian, who was holding out his hook with a self-satisfied smirk. David took it with a little grimace.

Once the ring was complete, Henry spoke.

"I'm thankful that the curse is broken and I found my mom and that my other mom promised not to be evil anymore," he said.

The boy's family all favored him with smiles of different flavors. David looked proud, Mary Margaret looked almost tearfully joyous, and Emma looked conflicted but happy.

"That's perfect, Henry," Mary Margaret said, squeezing the boy's hand. "I'm thankful for being reunited with my family and the chance to get to know my daughter."

There were definitely tears threatening her eyes, now, as she gazed adoringly at Emma.

Emma looked uncomfortable, but she was trying to mask it.

"Um," Emma said, all eyes on her. "I'm grateful for a roof over my head… and family… and for you, Henry. I'm grateful for you."

Her eyes flicked to meet Killian's for a fraction of a second and then returned to her son as she spoke the last word.

The boy beamed at his mother, and Emma gave him a genuine smile in response.

"I'm thankful for indoor plumbing," David said with a grin, "and my two favorite girls—" He winked at his wife and kissed Emma's knuckles. "—and my brave, wonderful grandson."

Smiles for the prince, and then it was Killian's turn.

Henry was looking at him expectantly and the others were watching him with curiosity.

"I'm grateful to be included," he said with a tight smile, clearly uncomfortable.

Henry was still watching him expectantly, so he took a deep breath and reluctantly continued.

"I'm grateful for fine weather and favorable winds," he said wistfully. "I'm grateful for unexpected turns that lead to pleasant surprises; for beanstalks and tripwires—" He winked at Emma. "—for warm welcomes—" He nodded to Mary Margaret. "—for curious lads—" He gave Henry a warm smile. "—and for amiable company." He smirked and raised his eyebrow at David.

David rolled his eyes.

"Well said," Mary Margaret declared. She raised her glass.

Henry picked up his glass of milk. Emma lifted her goblet and an eyebrow. David reluctantly joined in, so Killian also raised his glass.

Glasses were clinked all the way around the table, and then each person took a sip of their beverage after a chorus of "Happy Thanksgiving"s.

David carved the turkey while Mary Margaret started passing around the various side dishes. Killian had a little trouble managing the dishes while trying to scoop out a portion, so Emma and Mary Margaret ended up holding the dishes for him as he added mashed potatoes, dressing, and veggies to his plate. David even served him several thin slices of turkey without any disparaging comment.

"Thanks, mate," Killian said softly.

Henry convinced Killian to add a liberal amount of gravy to his plate.

Killian watched Emma drag her turkey slices through the cranberry sauce, tinting the meat pink. He mimicked her as well as each other variation he saw at the table, trying each combination he observed. Some he enjoyed, and others he didn't.

Conversation during the meal remained light and centered mainly around Henry. Mary Margaret managed the flow of discussion with all the grace of the royal princess she was. Killian was included in the flow of words, but never pressured to give more information than he deemed comfortable.

It was strange. Strange and nice.

Killian found himself smiling, laughing, and he even ruffled the boy's hair once, which seemed to surprise the rest of the family.

It had been so long since he'd had such a pleasant meal in such pleasant company.

It truly was something to be thankful for.

.

The meal was eaten leisurely, with frequent pauses for stories and jokes. Everyone had at least second helpings of something, and all were quite stuffed by then end of the meal. When Emma rescued the pies from the oven, they were left to cool on the counter, uncut and unserved.

The adults lingered at the table for a second glass of wine while Henry went to pack a bag for his overnight with Regina.

"This is good stuff, Jones," David said, holding up his wine glass. "Thank you."

"Yes," Mary Margaret said, "and thank you for coming."

Killian bobbed his head with a tight-lipped smile, clearly unsure how to respond to the praise.

Henry barreled back into the dining room then, looking a little frantic.

"I think I left my video game at the police station," he said. "Can we stop and get it before you drop me off at my mom's house?"

David glanced at the clock.

"Yeah, but we'll have to leave soon."

"Oh, but what about the dishes!" Mary Margaret exclaimed. "I'll have to stay here to clean up. You boys go ahead and I'll walk to Granny's when I'm done."

"Nonsense, Mary Margaret," Emma said. "I can handle the dishes. You should go with David."

"That's not fair, Emma," Mary Margaret protested. "You shouldn't have to clean it all up alone!"

"I'll help," Killian said softly.

The other adults all blinked at the pirate, who was studiously staring at a spot on the tablecloth. He looked up and gave another tight smile.

"It's the least I can do, really," he said, "after the hospitality that you've shown me today."

"That's sweet," Mary Margaret said, "but it's really not necessary."

"It's fine," Emma said. "Arguing about it won't help any. You two take Henry and go to Granny's, we'll stay here and clean up."

Mary Margaret looked between the pirate and her daughter with open appraisal.

David looked unhappy.

"Just go," Emma said, making shooing gestures. "God knows what Regina will do if Henry is late."

The Charmings made their good byes as Killian watched. Emma crouched to give Henry a big hug, her face warming into a sweet, open expression of love. When she stood, Mary Margaret embraced her, eliciting another smile, but more reserved. Then David enfolded her into his arms, kissing the top of her head and breathing her in. Emma's face was tighter, then.

Killian could tell that Emma was friends with her mother, but her relationship with her father was still too new for her to be comfortable with his affection.

When the trio was out the door, Emma threw the lock and visibly sagged against the wood with a sigh.

"Another drink, love?" Killian asked.

Emma's head shot up, eyes wide. She'd forgotten he was there, by the look of her reaction.

"That'd be good—" she started, but then she frowned, looking at the table. "After the dishes are done."

Killian nodded and stood, gathering plates into a pile.

"You really don't have to do that," Emma said as she started picking up flatware.

"I don't mind, lass."

"Guests shouldn't have to do dishes."

"No one is forcing me, Emma. I volunteered."

"Okay," Emma said, "suit yourself."

The clink of gathered dishes was the only sound for several minutes.

"We'll have to wash these by hand," Emma said when all the dishes were collected on the kitchen counter. "Mary Margaret doesn't have a dish washer."

"It seems to me that she has two," Killian said with a raised eyebrow.

Emma blinked and then nodded.

"She doesn't have a dish washing machine," Emma corrected.

"Ah," he said.

Emma filled one side of the sink with hot water and soap.

"Wash or dry?" she asked him, holding a scrub sponge and a towel for him to choose between.

"I'll dry them, I think," he said, taking the towel and securing it to his hook.

They fell into a rhythm, working side by side, occasionally bumping elbows. It felt easy.

Without really realizing it, Emma started quietly humming the tune that Mary Margaret always sang when she was cleaning the apartment.

Killian stiffened momentarily, turning to glance at Emma, lost in concentration as she scrubbed the ring out of the gravy boat. She looked relaxed, open, and gorgeous. Tentatively, he started humming along to the familiar tune, murmuring the words he could remember from a half dozen lifetimes ago.

It was Emma's turn to pause in surprise. She turned to face Killian as he continued to hum and dry off a ladle.

She joined back in after a moment, finishing with the gravy boat and handing it to him, their fingers brushing easily in the transfer of the slippery dish. He met her gaze when she didn't let go of the gravy boat. They stood there for a minute, neither humming any longer, just staring into each other's eyes.

Killian saw the emotions flickering across Emma's face: confusion, hope, doubt, trust, suspicion, camaraderie. She didn't know what to make of him, which was fine, because he didn't know what to make of her, either.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"I don't know," he whispered back honestly.

Surprisingly, those words seemed to sooth her more than anything else could have. She released the gravy boat, moving to wash the next item on the counter, her eyes dropping back to her work.

They finished the task in silence.

When it was done, Killian poured and swirled two glasses of wine while Emma rinsed the sink and dried her hands. He held one of the glasses out for her with his left arm when she was done, the bowl of the goblet sitting neatly in the curve of his hook. She took it with a murmured thank you, immediately, bringing the liquid to her lips.

"I'm afraid there isn't much left in the bottle," Killian said, holding up the magnum.

"I guess we'll have to finish it, then," Emma said, taking another sip and carrying the glass and the bottle to the couch. She sat on one end of it, leaning against the arm rest and curling her legs up into the cushion.

Killian followed her, perching on the other end of the sofa, his body turned to face her.

"Won't your family wonder where you are?" he asked lightly.

"No," she said with a little sigh. "I already told them I wasn't going to the Enchanted Forest reunion."

"Why not?"

"I draw the line at one awkward family meal per week," she said with a forced smile.

"They make you uncomfortable," he said, not really a question.

"I'm not used to it," she said, the wine lowering her guard. "I've never done the family thing before."

"You should enjoy it while you have it, love," he said quietly. "You never know how long it will last."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," she said, curiosity piqued.

"Aye," he said.

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

They sat in silence for another long minute, sipping their wine.

"Thank you for inviting me, Emma," he said finally.

"It was Henry's idea," she said, brushing away his words.

"I still appreciate the invitation," he said.

"It sure made Henry happy," Emma mused. "I don't think he got enough of you. He'll probably be bugging me to see you again; fair warning."

"He's a good lad," Killian said with an easy smile. "I wouldn't mind that."

"You wouldn't?" Emma said, surprised.

"Not at all, love."

"Oh," she said.

"Not what you were expecting?" he said over his wine glass.

"Most things aren't, here," she said with a sigh.

He studied her for a moment before speaking again.

"You feel out of place when everything is going well," he said, not really a question.

"Not used to it," she repeated her earlier sentiment.

"Try to enjoy it," he said sagely.

"Oh, advice from the pirate," she said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

"Wasn't always a pirate, love."

"That a story you're willing to share?" she asked, intrigued.

"Not today," he said wearily.

She opened her mouth to tease him, but thought better of it. She sat back and drank some more wine.

"This isn't a holiday for orphans," Emma said several minutes later, apropos of nothing.

"Few are, love," he replied, lifting the magnum to refill her glass. "Few are."


End file.
